


Night Terrors

by Claude_Lawless



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Inspired By Tumblr, Night Terrors, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claude_Lawless/pseuds/Claude_Lawless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He only agreed to walk her home. Never once did he think he'd end up holding her down while she thrashed beneath him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_I’m so tired_  
_I haven’t slept a wink_  
_I’m so tired  
_ _My mind is on the blink_

_****_

_Examination of the building’s layout suggested that the most likely point of entry would be on 6th floor, south entrance. Squads 4-6 [Dorn, Esk, Forn] of Ryloth Company were dispatched to prepare an ambuuuuuuu_

Kallus’s head jerked up. He blinked once. Twice. He’d fallen asleep again, hadn’t he?

Seeing the mess of letters, he sighed. As much as he wanted to, this was not the time for dozing off. Tarkin had made it clear that unless he wanted to face the consequences, he would have these reports filed and submitted before midnight. Which at this point was over two and a half hours ago, but he could only type so fast.

That said, he wasn’t particularly worried. He’d fiddled with his computer’s chronometer, making it look like he’d submitted the reports several hours before. It wasn’t cheating if there was no one keeping score.

He rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and deleted the extra letters.

_Squads 4-6 [Dorn, Esk, Forn] of Ryloth Company were dispatched to prepare an ambush, led by Captain Magash Holt. Squads 7 and 8 [Grek, Herf] sealed the sewer entrances in the immediate area, led by Captain Ulbi Khyper and Major Varada Toralei. Squads 1-3 [Aurek, bEshmCesssssssss_

His eyes snapped open. Damn it, even worse than the last time. All-nighters weren’t a regular occurrence in his life, but he’d pulled them off before. What was making this one so difficult?

He took a deep breath. Just finish this report, he told himself. Just this one last report, then he could go home, fall into bed, and be dead to the galaxy for a few hours.

_Squads 1-3 [Aurek, Besh, Cresh] accompanied mysekf tot he senate riim where Traybjs has afewws ri neeeeeeeee_

His chair squeaked as he fell back with a frustrated sigh. This report was starting to look like Aurebesh soup.

A short chime sounded, his computer’s way of saying it was 2 AM and that he’d spent five straight hours typing up reports. Whether that reflected his workload or his work habits, he had no idea, but it was ridiculous nonetheless.

He drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk. He could just leave. It’s not like

Tarkin could wait another twelve hours for him to finish the reports. It’s not like he was going to read them anyways. They’d just go into one of the Empire’s massive databanks and sit there, gathering proverbial dust.

But if he did take issue with it, well…he wasn’t going to think about that.

He made sure to save the report before he set the computer to turn off. He’d already wasted an hour retyping one he’d forgotten to save the night before. As it began its shutdown sequence, he opened an empty drawer and knocked the datapads inside. Immature as it was, he took a bit of pleasure in the sound of them clattering against the bottom of the drawer.

With everything squared away, he pulled his coat from its spot beneath his desk, pulling it on as he exited the room. Yes, it was getting old and the stitching on the shoulder was somewhat worn, but it was waterproof, kept the cold out, and fit like a glove. Kallus didn’t like many things, but he’d kill a man for that coat.

Well, maybe not kill. Maim, perhaps. Killing someone without making a mess would be too difficult. And the sudden presence of a corpse would raise too many questions. Though if he hid the body, it would be averted, but that was a problem in and of itself...

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He needed sleep.

The doors shut behind him, and he stopped to button his coat. No point in wearing it if it wasn’t closed. He grabbed the first button and pushed it through only for the threading to come out. Another pull, and the button fell into his hand. He muttered a curse and shoved it into his pocket.

A low moan cut through the silence of the complex. He paused and looked around. There was no one in the hall besides him, and as far as he knew, the others with offices in this area had left a long time ago. As much as he wanted to shrug it off as the building settling or a droid, he couldn’t. It sounded too human.

He held his breath and listened for a second one. It came within seconds, slightly quieter than the last. It was definitely a person making those noises. A person in pain. It was coming from nearby, likely on the other side of the hall.

From Minister Tua’s office.

He frowned. He didn’t exactly hate the woman, but he was too tired to deal with her. All the same, if something had happened to her, he would be the prime suspect.

His footsteps echoed loudly as he crossed the empty hallway. He pressed the buzzer on door panel. The chime sounded, but there was no activity on the other side. He pressed it again, this time hearing muffled speech. She was inside, but why wasn’t she responding?

He rapped on the door with his knuckles. “Minister?” No response. He raised his voice. “Minister.” Still nothing. Now he was slightly worried.

He touched the door panel, and it slid open. Tua slumped over her desk, arms folded around a small pile of holopads, her cheek resting on the topmost one. Her hat sat neatly on top of a smaller stack.

The corner of his lips curled into a half smile. It was somewhat comforting to know that he hadn’t been the only one working late. It would have been more amusing if her expression wasn’t pained, eyes squeezed shut and brows knit together. What could she be dreaming about?

As if to answer his question, she mumbled in her sleep. “No, don’t...they don’t...” A shudder, then another moan like the ones he’d heard earlier.

His smile faded. That wasn’t a dream. That was the sound of a nightmare. And he’d bet his life that he knew exactly what it was. He’d had it a few times himself.

Though he tried to convince himself otherwise, it would be a lie to say that Tarkin’s “message” hadn’t shaken him up a bit. It wasn’t the deaths themselves that disturbed him -- Aresko and Grint had annoyed him to no end -- but by how quickly and coldly they were carried out. The grand moff had said in no uncertain terms that he was next in line for the chopping block.

He rubbed his throat. There were worse ways to go, but he had no interest in getting his head lopped off.

She moaned again, and he sighed. He should probably wake her up. Steeling himself, he touched her shoulder. “Minister--”

Her squeak of surprise made him jump back. She looked around wildly, eyes wide. “What--?! Who--?!” They settled on him. “Agent Kallus?” she asked.

It took him a moment to find his voice. That squeak had surprised him far more than it should have. Exhaustion had frayed his nerves, it seemed. “Yes,” he said.

She blinked at him, then fall back. “You terrified me,” she said. “I was having the most awful dream…”

“I heard your moaning from the hallway.”

Pink tinged her cheeks. “Y-You could?” she asked. He nodded. She sighed. “I apologize. The sheer monotony of this…” She gestured at the datapads. “I thought I’d close my eyes for a moment. What time is it?”

“A quarter past two.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “You’re joking.”

“I don’t ‘joke,’ Minister.”

A blue glow filled the room as she activated her desk’s holographic display. She groaned and buried her face in her hands. “And I’m not even halfway done,” she mumbled.

To his surprise, he felt a twinge of sympathy. She was just as tired as he was, if not more so. Tarkin had given her the same ultimatum, despite the fact that there wasn’t anything she could have done to combat the rebels. She was a bureaucrat, not a combatant. The blame lay on him and the Inquisitor. Mostly the Inquisitor.

He gently pushed her chair out of the way. “What are you doing?” she asked as he knelt down beneath the console. He felt around for the metal seam that protected the computer’s guts from people like him and pulled. The panel came off with a thud. “Agent Kallus, what are you doing to my desk?!”

“This is a favor.” While most digital programming determined most of the computer’s inner workings, its internal clock was an analog component. He didn’t know exactly why, as the device was fragile and easy to break, but he suspected that it had to do with some engineers who wanted to avoid the consequences of procrastination. “Read the display’s clock.”

“2:16,” she said. “If you break anything…”

With his thumb, he rotated the biggest gear several times towards the left. “And now?”

“20:16…” she said. He turned the gear again. “Now it’s 19:16.”

He gave the mechanism a tug, but it didn’t slip out like it had in his own desk. Judging by the epoxy that attached it to the side, it had been repaired recently. He felt somewhat bad about breaking someone’s handiwork, but he quickly got over it. The gears crunched under his heel as he gave it a good kick.

As he pulled himself out from underneath the desk, Tua side-eyed him. “What did I just say?” she demanded.

He ignored her. “I broke the chronometer,” he said as he replaced the panel. “Whenever you submit the reports, the timestamp will read yesterday at 23:16.”

Pale brown eyes went wide. “Th-Thank you,” she stammered. “But… why?”

He stood up and dusted himself off. “Because you’re as exhausted as I am,” he said. “Go home and get some sleep.” He turned and left, leaving her staring after him. He was determined to take his own advice, even if it killed him.

The door swished as it closed behind him, and he increased his pace. The silence of the complex at night made him uneasy. It was stupid to think that he was being watched, but a healthy amount of paranoia had saved his life on more than one occasion. There was no shame in not wanting to linger in one place for too long.

“Wait!” Tua had her coat in her arms and was quickly approaching. “May I walk with you?” she asked.

Every bone in his body told him to say no, but he didn’t. Tarkin’s arrival had drastically changed the playing field. He couldn’t afford to make an enemy out of her.

“You may,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epigraph taken from "I'm So Tired" by the Beatles.


	2. Chapter 2

_Strangers in the night, exchanging glances_  
_Wondering in the night; what were the chances?_  
_We’d be sharing love before the night was through_

****

“Thank you,” she said. She fell into step beside him and pulled on her coat. It was the same shade of blue as the rest of her outfit, its edges trimmed with fine white fur. “I don’t like walking alone at night,” she said with a nervous smile.

“I don’t blame you.” Kallus wasn’t a religious man, but he prayed to whatever deity was listening that she would keep the small talk to a minimum. He was too exhausted to talk.

A god must have heard him, because she was silent the rest of the way down the hall. It was only when they entered the elevator and he’d pressed the button for the ground floor that she spoke. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you know how to break the chronometer?”

The truth was that several years ago, he was investigating a bug in a coworker’s desk when his comlink went off. He sat up so fast that he knocked his head against the device, jarring it out of place and leaving him with a cut forehead. She’d laughed at him, but the joke was on her when every report she sent out was dated for noon of the following day. Not one to let useful knowledge go to waste, he’d used the trick to his benefit more times than he cared to admit.

But he wasn’t going to tell her that. He settled for a small, wry smile. “You learn many odd things in my line of work,” he said.

She seemed satisfied with his answer. “I can’t say that I envy you,” she said. “I don’t think I could stand moving around as much as you do.”

“I’m used to it.”

The elevator doors opened. They stepped out, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous lobby. It was the only part of the building that didn’t look totally utilitarian, with large picture windows that flooded the room with the bright light of Lothal’s twin moons. It was the one thing he like about the planet. He wasn’t afraid of the dark, but growing up on a city-planet that never slept left him uneasy in the night on less developed planets.

The night breeze nipped at his face as they exited the building, cold enough to make him shudder. He hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets, his sigh of frustration condensing into white smoke in front of him.

Tua’s laugh was light as she flipped her hood over her head. “Not used to everything, I see,” she said. “Here.” He tried to move out of range of her hands, but they were on the lapels of his coat before he could take a step back. With a snap of her wrists, she popped his collar. “So you’re not all bunched up. Where did you say your apartment was again?”

He usually hated having the collar up, but his neck was noticeably less cold, so he didn’t protest. He did let out another frustrated sigh, however. “I never said anything about it.”

“Well, what street is it?” she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “I might know a shortcut.”

Shortcuts were good. “North Beacon.”

She pursed her lips as she thought. “There’s an alley off of Tovar Drive that connects to South Beacon. It would save you about ten minutes,” she said. “It’s close to my own home. I could show you where it is, if you’d like.”

“Lead the way.”

The walk from the Imperial Complex to her home was relatively short, but between the cold numbing his face and exhaustion making his limbs and eyelids feel like lead, it felt like a hundred kilometers. He had to fight to keep his feet from dragging, and he was sure he nearly fell asleep standing up as they waited to cross a street. She seemed to have finally figured out that he was in no mood to talk, and she said little aside from the occasional “this way.”

After what felt like hours, she stopped in front of a well-kept townhouse. “And here we are,” she said. She turned to him. “I really can’t thank you enough--”

He held up his hand to stop her. Not out of any sense of modesty. He could barely keep his eyes open. “Think nothing of it.”

She seemed to understand. She pointed across the street. “That way, third one down,” she said. She gave him a warm, genuine smile. “Sleep well, Agent.”

He nodded his head and turned away. Finally, he could go home. He was punchy enough to let a wide grin spread across his face. He couldn’t wait to kick his boots off, strip down to his skivvies, crash into bed and wrap himself up in the blankets--

“ _Kallus!_ ”

He snapped out of his reverie in time to see bright lights coming towards him. Something ripped as he was jerked backwards, causing him to stumble on the curb and land on his back. A pair of landspeeders zipped past, both brightly colored and going at least twice the speed limit.

The realization of what just happened hit him like a stampeding bantha. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he’d walked right into a street race and nearly gotten hit.

Tua had pulled him back, and she still gripped his sleeve. She had the same horrified expression she had when Aresko and Grint had been killed, wide-eyed and on the brink of tears. “Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

It took a lot to rattle Kallus. Life or death situations were a common occurrence in his life. A firefight was trivial, and he could come out of a high-speed chase like it was nothing. But that… that wasn’t a combat situation. That was his own stupidity, plain and simple. It felt like a pit had opened in his stomach.

“I’m fine,” he said. He knew she wouldn’t believe him. He said it for his own benefit, a futile attempt to calm his racing mind.

She tried to help him to his feet, but he shook her off. “I can’t let you walk home like this,” she said. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

“Then what do you propose I do?”

“I have a spare room,” she said. “You’ll stay here for the night.”

He shook his head. “I can’t--”

“That wasn’t a suggestion.” She crossed her arms, looking at him the way a mother would a petulant child.

He didn’t like the idea. Didn’t like it at all. It would be unprofessional, for one thing. Second, the rumor mill was a vicious, vicious thing. If anyone caught wind that he had spent the night at her house, it would be both of their positions on the line. Third, _he just wanted to go home, was that so much to ask?_

Gradually, the rational part of his mind won out. She was right. He was tired enough that it was affecting his better judgement. The next time he crossed a road, there wouldn’t be anyone to pull him out of the way. He wasn’t familiar with this part of the city, either. Getting lost on a night like this would be a death sentence. As much as he didn’t want to, it was the best solution.

“Fine,” he said curtly. He followed her to the front door and watched as she swiped her key through the reader. It unlocked with a click, and a rush of warm air hit his face.

The door opened into a clean, sweet-smelling kitchen with a small table. Various appliances adorned the counters, arranged neatly against the wall. There were two doorways, one leading to a living room area and the other to a hallway that ended in a set of stairs.

She pulled her boots off and set them by the door. “I’ll just be a minute,” she said. “Feel free to make yourself at home.” She entered the hallway and went up the stairs, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He removed his boots and coat, setting the former next to hers as he examined the latter. The rip in his sleeve was about as long as his hand, from the tip of his middle finger to the heel of his palm. Far too long for him to repair with his rudimentary sewing skills. He slung it over the back of the chair and turned his attention to the living room.

Large windows filling the room with light didn’t prevent him from whacking his shin on a low-lying table. A holograph clattered as it fell over. Not even three hours past midnight and he was already having a bad day. That had to be some sort of record.

He reset the holograph. It was of Tua standing between her parents, dressed in the traditional garb of an Imperial Academy graduate. Her father leaned on a cane and her mother had gray streaks in her blonde hair, but the resemblance between mother and daughter was uncanny.

“I’ve been told that I look like her, but I don’t see it.” Tua was standing in the doorway, watching him with a smile. He thought about suggesting that she see an optometrist, but insulting the person who was giving you a place to sleep was poor form. “In any case, your room is ready.

He followed her up the stairs and into a wide hallway lined with pictures. She led him into the second door on the left. It opened into a cozy bedroom filled with warm colors. An intricate quilt adorned the bedspread, covering the layers of blankets the winter weather necessitated. A round, old-fashioned clock ticked on the wall.

“The ‘fresher is the just across the hall,” she said. “If you need anything, I’m at the end.”

“Thank you, Minister,” he said. His gratitude was genuine, even if he’d be somewhere else.

“Sleep well,” she said. She left, the door closing behind her.

“I’ll try,” he muttered. Not like he had much of a choice at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epigraph taken from "Strangers in the Night," made famous by Frank Sinatra.


	3. Chapter 3

_Lying there and staring at the ceiling  
Waiting for a sleepy feeling..._

****

The cold air sent a chill through him as he stripped down to his underclothes, a black muscle shirt and gray boxers. As much as he wanted to leave his uniform on the floor, he forced himself to fold it and set it on the nightstand. Walking home in the morning dressed in wrinkled clothes might suggest that he’d been up to unseemly activity the night before. The last thing he needed was anyone thinking he was on a “walk of shame.”

Rolling back the covers, he slipped into bed. The flannel sheets were soft against his skin, nothing like the scratchy, utilitarian fabric he was used to. Warm, too. He pulled the blankets up to his chin and finally let his heavy eyes close, taking deep, even breaths.

In the silence, the clock tick was deafening. On any other night he might have been able to block it out, but in an unfamiliar environment in his enervated state, it was aggravating. He rolled onto his side and pulled the blankets up to his ears. He must have looked rather amusing, all bunched up like this. At least he was warm.

More minutes ticked by than he cared to count. His previous position having become uncomfortable, he rolled onto his other side and pulled his knees to his chest. Heartbeats thumped in his ears. He rubbed his eyes. Still heavy, still sticky, and now they hurt to close. He was exhausted, every limb ached, so why wasn’t he sleeping?

The realization that he was too tired to fall asleep was a frustrating one.

Muttering curses under his breath, he sat up. The clock’s minute hand was just past the ten and its hour hand almost on the three -- 2:52 AM. He usually got up around seven and left for the Complex around nine. He could probably get away with going in at ten just this once, but that still meant getting up around eight. If he got up at quarter to eight, that would give him time to find his way home. That only gave him about five hours of sleep, but he’d gone longer on less. And that would require him to fall asleep right at this second, which was very, very, very unlikely to happen.

He fell back with a thud, the mattress squeaking under the impact. This was not going to be a good day at all. At least he’d messed with the timestamps and the reports weren’t on a deadline. Not an official one, at least. But even that depended on whether or not Tarkin was just attempting to scare them. He was hedging his bets that yes, he was, but he wasn’t quite sure anymore.

He racked his brain for any tip, any trick he could use to calm his racing thoughts. Only one came to mind: counting backwards from one hundred. He doubted it would work, but what did he have to lose? He folded his arms across his stomach and forced his eyes shut.

_Ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven--_

He was just starting to drift into unconsciousness when shriek ripped through the room. He sat up and listened. It was too loud and too clear to have come from outside, but he couldn’t hear any sounds of a struggle coming from inside the house. Could it have been Tua, having another nightmare?

A second scream followed by muffled sobbing confirmed that that was probably the case. He sighed. Neither of them were going to get any sleep, were they? He considered rolling over and ignoring it, but he decided that he’d better wake her. Having two sleep deprived officials attempting to type up reports would not end well.

He swung his legs out of bed and padded into the hallway. The crying grew louder as he approached her room, confirming his initial suspicions.

Before he could raise his hand to knock on the door, it opened. A distraught Tua slammed into his chest hard enough for him to stagger back a few steps. She tried pushing past him, but he grabbed her arms and held her still.

“Minister, you’re dreaming,” he said firmly. She broke his grip and tried to run past him again. He clamped his hands on his shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “Get a hold of yourself!”

She screeched a barely coherent curse at him, a sound that made his hair stand on end. He opened his mouth to retort, but stopped when he saw her face. Her eyes were wide and wild, glassy and unfocused. This wasn’t a nightmare. This was a night _terror,_ and she was going to hurt herself if he didn’t hold her still.

She took advantage of his hesitation to throw his arms off and dart underneath them. He snatched the back of her nightgown and pulled her into a bear hug, one arm around her torso and upper arms and the other around her waist. She squirmed and spat more curses at him, but he held tight.

“Minister Tua, you have to listen to me.” He kept his voice low and even. “You have to wake up. I don’t know what you think is happening, or where you think you are, but it’s a dream.” A full-body thrash threatened his grip, forcing him to readjust his position. “For the love of god, you need to--”

A lucky kick sent a flood of pain shooting up his spine, escaping through his mouth in the form of a strangled yelp. He could take a broken bone without so much as a hiss, but nothing in the galaxy could dull the agony of a kick between a man’s legs.

He fell forward. She wriggled out from underneath him and stumbled to her feet. Infuriated, he snatched her ankle and pulled. She hit the floor with a crash and a pained cry. Five minutes ago he might have felt bad about hurting her, but she shot first and he was losing his patience.

Biting back curses, he hauled himself to his feet and stumbled over to her. The sobbing woman scrambled backwards, but he was faster. He dropped on top of her, straddling her waist and pinning her wrists above her head.

“Tua,” he growled.

She squirmed and kicked, thrashing her head from side to side. “Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me--”

“Tua--”

“No!” She thrashed her legs, just barely missing the spot between his legs.

His patience ran up. Lips curled into a snarl, he grabbed her jaw and forced her to look at him. _“Maketh!”_ he roared.

She went silent. Pale brown eyes focused on his, the glassy look slowly fading. The fear was still there, but it wasn’t the wild, irrational terror of before.

He lowered his voice. “Maketh, listen to me,” he said. “You are having a nightmare. There is nothing to be afraid of. You are lying on the floor in the hallway of your own home. I am not an attacker, I am not a monster, I am not the Inquisitor, I am not Tarkin. It’s just me.”

She blinked several times. “K…Kallus…” she mumbled.

He nodded. “Now listen: I’m going to get off of you, and you’re not going to kick me. Understand?”

“Uh-huh.”

Nausea gripped him as he stood, but it passed. She sat up and pulled her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees. She looked scared again, but it wasn’t the same terror as before. Now it was just confusion and discomfort. Between her bedhead and the long white nightgown, she looked like a ghost.

He sighed. “Here.”

He took her soft, slender hands in his own and pulled her to her feet. Placing one arm behind her legs and the other behind her back, he scooped her up and turned toward her room. She let out a squeak of surprise and threw her arms around his neck.

A wry smile twisted his lips. She was completely at his mercy. He’d be lying if he said that the idea didn’t turn him on, but saner thoughts prevailed. He was a cruel, cold man who could kill without remorse, but there were lines even he wouldn’t cross.

With a deep sigh, Tua rested her head in the crook of his neck. Puffs of warm breath against his skin made him shiver. He wanted to push her face away, but he thought better of it. She’s just tired, he told himself. It didn’t mean anything. She wanted somewhere to rest her head.

He took a deep breath to steel his nerves, only for it to turn into a gasp as she brushed her lips against his throat. Thankful that the darkness hid his blush, he clenched his jaw and entered her bedroom.

A sweet smell wafted off of a dying candle, flickering in the dark and casting weird shadows on the walls. It was a modestly-sized room, dominated by a large bed. The sheets were in complete disarray, no doubt due to to her thrashing, but the pillows remained undisturbed.

The mattress squeaked as he placed her onto the bed. “And there you are,” he said. “Sleep well, Minister.”

With a curt nod, he turned on his heel and made for the door. Being aroused on any terms that weren’t his own drove him crazy, and the sooner he removed himself from the situation, the better. Ideally, he’d go take a cold shower, but it was three in the morning and he had no desire to bathe anywhere that wasn’t his own apartment.

Something snatched the hem of his undershirt and he turned around. Tua was sitting up, knees pressed together as her legs dangled over the edge of the bed. Her voice was so quiet that he almost didn’t hear her words.

“Stay with me,” she said. “Please.”

He stared at her. This was an unexpected turn of events. “With all due respect, it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to…”

“I-I know, but...” She wrapped her skinny arms around herself. She looked like a terrified child, with watery eyes and a grimace.

Why he chose now to start caring now, he didn’t know, but something told him to stay. He laid down on the other side of the bed, stretching out to full length. The mattress squeaked as she wriggled closer to him, laying her head against his chest. He hesitantly draped an arm over her shoulders. She curled into his embrace, pressing herself against him and laying her arm across his chest.

“Thank you, Kallus,” she murmured, already half asleep.

A small smile appeared on his face before he realized it had happened.

He watched the candle cast shadows on the wall, the flame making them flicker and dance in hypnotic ways. Tua breathed slowly and quietly beside him, the steady rhythm of sleep. She twitched and whimpered occasionally, but a gentle squeeze and she was quiet.

How much time went by before he yawned, he didn’t know, but eventually he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He took a deep breath.

_Ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epigraph taken from "I'm Only Sleeping" by the Beatles.


	4. Chapter 4

_Last night I felt_  
_Real arms around me_  
_No hope - no harm_  
_Just another false alarm_

 ****

“And that, gentlemen, is something I cannot have.”

Five times she’d heard the Grand Moff’s speech. Five times she’d seen the Inquisitor’s lightsaber ignite. Five times she’d heard the thumps of two heads hitting the floor and smelled the sickening stench of charred flesh. Five times that those three minutes and forty-six seconds had played out in her mind’s eye, and it was just as horrifying each time. There was no reason to believe that the sixth time would be any different.

She wanted to look away, to cover her eyes, anything that would soften the blow. But it was a memory and she was frozen, paralyzed with fear, just as she had been that day. She braced herself.

And then something happened. Her eyes squeezed shut, and when she opened them, she saw nothing. She heard only silence, and only a faint, woodsy smell reached her nose. There was a powerful presence behind her, gloved hands holding her in a firm-but-gentle grip. She struggled, but she couldn’t break it. He leaned over her shoulder to whisper in her ear.

“You’re dreaming, Maketh.” Kallus’s voice was soft and soothing, lacking the undercurrent of malice it usually contained. “I’m here. Everything is going to be fine.”

She didn’t know why she believed him, but she did. She melted into his embrace, letting her legs crumple beneath her. Two arms thick with muscle held her up, interlacing their fingers with her own. Bristles scratched against her skin as he pressed his warm lips against her neck.

A coo of pleasure escaped her mouth. “Kallus…”

He pulled away from her, and she turned to him. His mouth curled into a small, close-lipped smile that narrowed his eyes, a far cry from his usual self-satisfied smirk. He pulled her closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

Suddenly, everything went fuzzy, and she started waking up.

It was a gradual process. She knew she was still half-asleep when she found Kallus playing the part of the big spoon behind her, one arm snaked around her waist. A jolt of panic shot through her, but a bit of feeling around and wriggling revealed that they were both still clothed. Truth be told, she was a little disappointed, but she got over it. She snuggled into the embrace and closed her eyes again. Black soon followed

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but when she woke up a second time, he was gone and she was draped in a blanket. The sounds of muffled cursing and of closing doors reached her ears, but she chalked it up to her still being half-asleep and hearing things. She rolled over and fell into a state between sleep and wakefulness.

She was finally forced up by the sound of her alarm clock going off. Grumbling, she nearly slapped it off of the nightstand. She discarded the blanket with a kick and swung out of bed, tramping out of the room, through the hall, and down the stairs.

The smell of freshly brewed caf still hung in the air as she entered the kitchen, coming from the pot underneath the percolator. She went to get a mug from the cabinet, only to find that the pink one she’d used the morning before was sitting on the drying rack. She distinctly remembered putting it away after the last time she’d used it. Shrugging, she poured herself a cup anyways.

Seeing Kallus’s coat draped over the kitchen chair nearly made her drop the mug. Memories came flooding back. Making him stay over, waking up on the floor with him on top of her, him carrying her back to her bedroom, them curling up together… He must’ve made the caf and used her mug. And the cursing was him seeing the time and rushing out the door, forgetting his coat in the process.

Setting down the mug, she picked up the coat. It was a military-style peacoat, thin but warm. Years of wear had left it soft and flexible to the touch, and she was running her hand along the sleeves when she found the rip in the shoulder. She noticed the missing button, too, finding it in the pocket.

As she examined the round disc, an idea formed in her mind, and a smile spread across her face.

****

Despite the fact that they were literally right across the hall from each other, Tua neither saw nor had the time to find Kallus. She’d pressed the indicator for his office when she’d first arrived, but there was no answer and the door was locked.

She resolved to try sometime later, but she never got the chance. The rest of the day was full of aides needing this thing signed or that request approved, and this was om top of the reports she had to fill out.

But after a long, busy, stressful day, she’d gotten it all done. She pressed ‘submit’ on the last report and sighed in relief, collapsing backwards into her chair. Finally, she could go home and relax.

She thanked every deity she could think of before remembering that it was Kallus who broke her chronometer, and she had yet to thank him properly for it. A glance at the clock confirmed that he would be leaving soon, and she had to catch him.

Picking up his coat, she exited her office and strolled across the hall. She pressed the indicator. No answer. Pressing it again yielded similar results. After a third try, she rolled her eyes and went in anyways. She was thankful that the door closed behind her, because she almost burst out laughing.

Kallus had definitely finished his work. His chair back was leaned back as far as it would go, hands clasped behind his head, feet resting on the edge of his desk. Rhythmic, measured breaths suggested he was either already asleep or close to being so. She almost felt bad about waking him up, but she didn’t want him to get in trouble on the off-chance that Tarkin walked in.

Holding the coat behind her back, she approached the desk. “Kallus, “ she said. She nudged one of his feet.

Such a small gesture got a violent reaction. His eyes snapped open and he jolted upright, swinging his feet off of the desk in one fluid motion. For half a second, he looked terrified. As soon as he noticed her, he groaned, rubbing his forehead as he sat back. Hearing her giggle, he glared at her through his fingers.

“Do not, under any circumstances, _ever_ do that again,” he growled.

She tried to force the smile off of her face, but was unsuccessful. “I’m sorry, Agent Kallus, but what else was I supposed to do?”

Ignoring the question, he sat up. “What do you want, Minister?” he asked. “I’m very tired, and I would like to…”

He trailed off as she pulled the coat out from behind her back, unfurling it like a flag. “You left this in the kitchen,” she said.

The anger melted off of his face. He stood up and walked to the other side of the desk, taking it from her. As he examined the shoulder, his eyes widened. “You fixed it,” he said.

Her smile faded slightly. Between the shock in his voice and the look on his face, it was like no one had ever done him a favor before. “I also sewed the button back on. I thought that as long as I had the sewing kit out, I might as well.”

He thumbed the plastic disc. “I don’t know what to say.” The corners of his lips turned up into a not-quite-a-smile. “Thank you, Minister.”

“You may call me Maketh, if you like.” She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice. “We’ve shared a bed, there’s no need to be so formal with me,” she said with a wink.

“I--” He tried to protest, but she cocked an eyebrow at him. “Very well. But only behind closed doors. No need to get the rumor mill turning.”

She nodded. “Of course.” They were both silent for a few moments as he examined the stitching. “Well, I hate to run, but I think I’ll be going home. I think I deserve a cup of tea.”

“That makes two of us.” He swung the coat over his shoulders, putting his back to her as he slid his arms through the sleeves.

She slowly stepped toward the door. “Good night, Agent Kallus.”

“Good night.”

She had hoped that he would have said more, but it didn’t look like she would be getting much else out of him. She sighed inwardly. With one last look over her shoulder, she opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

“Wait.”

She turned. Kallus was standing straight as a ramrod, hands folded behind his back, his gaze was on everywhere but her face. “You never did show me that shortcut last night,” he said. “It would probably be best if we... er, if _you_ showed me while it’s still light out.”

She smiled. “I would be happy to.”

And then it happened. His lips curled upwards, pushing his cheeks up to narrow his eyes. It was small, it was subtle, and she wouldn’t have seen it if she wasn’t looking for it. But didn’t change the fact that Kallus, Imperial Security Bureau agent zero-two-one, was _actually smiling_.

And it was infectious. She broke into a broad grin. “Let me get my coat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epigraph taken from "Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me" by the Smiths.

**Author's Note:**

> Since you're reading the notes at the end of the story, I'm going to assume that you read the whole thing through. If so, then I'd like to thank you for taking some time out of your presumably busy day to read my fic! And if you didn't, what kind of weirdo are you, skipping to the end like that?
> 
> This fic was brought about by thinking about [this tumblr post](http://starwarsguttertrash.tumblr.com/post/110787551007/star-wars-rebels-head-canon-minister-tua-has-been) on a sleepless night. I have my best ideas at three o'clock in the morning, it seems.
> 
> Anyways, thank you again for reading, and I hope you have a lovely day!


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